


The Crib

by Deathraptor22



Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of 1x 08, Angst, Baby Prep Goes Somewhat Wrong, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathraptor22/pseuds/Deathraptor22
Summary: “I can’t.  I don’t know how long until…I don’t know how long I have left.  And I…I’m never gonna be able to teach him how to ride a bike or watch him get married or even look him in the eyes, or any of those other stupid things these people care about!  But I can build him a stupid Swedish crib!  I can do that.”





	The Crib

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Class. Anything you recognize, assume I don’t own it. Also, since this was partially inspired by the Season 12 finale to the point that I used some lines from it, I don’t own Supernatural either.  
> AN: Hi, I’m new here, this is my first story on Archive of Our Own, just a couple things:  
>  Yes, I’m aware I’m writing a story for a dead show. But for whatever reason Class was awesome idea fuel for me and I can’t get it or said ideas out of my brain even months after the fact. Or I will continue to write for it.  
> Please read and if you like this, or even hate it and want to tell me off, review!

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Maclean.” Charlie said, on the phone with April’s mother, “I haven’t heard anything from them yet today.”  
It had been a week since the Shadowkin debacle. A week since they were forced to sneak April out of the school auditorium under a grey plastic tarp they found in a storage closet. A week since they clamed her mother down at the sight of the shadow monster she believed killed her daughter and managed to convince her that said shadow monster actually was her daughter. A week since Tanya cut off contact with them. Or her brothers had cut off her contact with them. Or both, no one was sure at that point. A week since Ram and his mother started planning his father’s funeral. A week since Quill managed to get hold of the Doctor. A week since both Quill and Mrs. Maclean stood there in the latter’s front room, tearing into the Doctor, calling him a reckless idoit for leaving five kids in charge of tear in time space in the first place, and telling him the blood of everyone who had died in the last 48 hours was on his hands. If anything good could possibly come from this catastrophe it was that from now on Andera Quill and Jackie Maclean would be good friends bound forever in their contempt of the Doctor. A week since the Doctor took April onto his ship to alter her physiology to appear human again. A week since Quill started preparing to give birth to hybrid child, likely dying in the process. A week since Charlie figured out micromanaging, or at least trying to micromanage, all these situations kept him distracted from what he had done, and if wasn’t distracted from it—well, let’s just say if that happened, Mateusz might have been right to hide all the knives and shoelaces in the house.  
Hence why he was talking to Mrs. Maclean, who had called to ask if he had heard anything from the Doctor on his daughter’s status. A call that was probably meant for Quill.  
“Please tell me the moment you know something.” Mrs. Maclean requested, trying to keep her voice even, unemotional.  
“I will.” Charlie replied, “I promise. You’ll be the first to know.”  
“Thank you.” Mrs. Maclean responded sincerely, “Um, how’s Andrea doing?”  
It took Charlie a minute to remember who Andrea was. He wasn’t use to hearing it. “Quill—Miss Quill’s still holding up.” He finally answered awkwardly, “She’s gathering things for-for the child. We haven’t been able to convince to see an actual doctor yet, but at least she’s taking prenatal victims.”  
Unbeknownst to either of them, Quill was on the floor, surrounded by crib parts, looking up at the sky. This shouldn’t be this hard. “God, please.” She moaned, “I need help.”  
“I’m trying to help you, ma’am.” A Swedish accented voice said, in a somewhat condescending manner on the phone.  
“Are you, Sven?!” Quill demanded, getting to her knees and raising her voice, “Because if you ask me if I have the quarter-inch Allen wrench one—one more time I am going to come down there and burn your giant Viking junkyard of a store to the ground! Do you understand?!”  
The screaming could be heard all the way downstairs, causing Mrs. Maclean to ask, “Is everything okay?”  
“I better go check on that.” Charlie responded, “Sorry, I think I have to go. Goodbye.” He hung up and ran upstairs.  
Charlie barely set the phone down before he was rushing up the stairs, calling out, “Quill!” What was going on? Was she hurt? She didn’t sound in distress, just angry. That had to be a good sign, right?  
Charlie arrived at the doorway of what was suppose to be the nursery at the same time Mateusz, who had been hiding all the pills in the house that didn’t pertain to the resident expectant mother, did. They could now see Quill was unharmed and seemingly unaware of their presence as she did battle with the man on the other end of the phone, who was saying, “Are you sure it wasn’t in the box?”  
“God!” Quill screamed, tossing the phone across the room in exasperation and rage. It hit the wall, breaking. It was then she noticed she had an audience. “How much of that did you see?”  
“Just a bit.” Mateusz assured her, “Quill. We told you we’d put this together. I can’t speak for Charlie but I’m very good at following instructions. And you need to rest.”  
“No, I don’t.” Quill responded, looking for the God-forsaken wrench again.  
“Quill- “Charlie began, helping her to her feet, something he was surprised he allowed.  
“No, Charles, I don’t.” Quill insisted, pulling away. She knew he was about to insist she get some rest as well. “I can’t. I don’t know how long until…I don’t know how long I have left. And I…I’m never gonna be able to teach him how to ride a bike or watch him get married or even look him in the eyes, or any of those other stupid things these people care about! But I can build him a stupid Swedish crib! I can do that.” In truth, as the days went on, those things were becoming less and less stupid to her. She had always known what would happen if she bore a child, but now that it was actually happing she wanted to see her child grow up damn it! But since she likely couldn’t she would do what she could now.  
“Quill, I know how hard this is.” Charlie began.  
Quill gave Charlie an incredulous look. How could he possibly know how hard it was? How could he possibly comprehend knowing that death was a certainly, knowing that once she was gone her helpless child would be completely alone. At least in Quill society the fathers were around to care for the infants until they could take care of themselves, childless female relatives too, maybe. But the Quill were gone, so was the father of her child, the best case sanario was maybe, just maybe Jackie would help to find the child a suitable guardian. She didn’t even want to think about the worst sanario. About her baby being left to die. How could he possibly understand that, or the pain of never getting to meet her child? How could he possibly understand any of it, let alone know it?  
Realizing all this, Charlie admitted quickly, “That’s a lie. I have no idea how hard this is for you. But I promise you, if…” Charlie voice trailed off for a moment as he forced the words out of his throat, “Worst comes to worst, we will raise this child for you.”  
It took a minute for Quill to process what Charlie had just said, then she demanded, “What do you mean ‘we’? Who is this ‘we’ you’re talking about?” What Charlie was proposing was for in case Quill didn’t make it so he likely wasn’t referring to her, and with the rag-tag band of misfits scattered to the four winds…  
“Okay, at this rate, probably just me.” Charlie admitted. He had no idea how he was going to keep his promise, he knew nothing about raising a child, but he figured the least he could do for her at that point was ensure her child’s safety. He could see how thoughtless, to put it generously, he had been towards her now, and he figured he owed her that. Owed her more than that. But this was all he was capable of doing.   
While Quill knew he meant well, and from the way he said she was reasonably sure he meant it, Charlie’s promise didn’t exactly instill confidence in her. For one thing, she was wildly aware that he had no experience or knowledge when it came to any aspect of child-rearing. Plus, there was the added concern of how the child would be raised in his care. She could tolerate it if the child was raised human, beggars couldn’t be choosers and her baby was just as stuck on this planet as the rest of them were, but she would sooner throw herself from a third-story window and end both their lives than have it raised Rhodian.  
“Make instructions.” Mateusz spoke up, sensing her fear, “Make instructions on how you want it to be raised. Write it down, tape yourself, anything you see fit, just make sure it’s detailed enough for us to follow.”  
Quill narrowed her eyes. “And how do I know I’m just wasting my time on instructions that will just get thrown in the trash before my body even has time to get cold?” She wasn’t trying to start a fight, it was just that even thought she had saved Charlie and he hadn’t hurt while she was hibernating, she still didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.  
“I swear to you they won’t.” Charlie vowed solemnly, making more eye contact then was socially appropriate in any society, “Human, Quill, anyway you want we will raise your child. I will give my life for him or her. And we will make him or her into someone you will be proud of.”  
Quill could fell her chest tightening as she thought back tears and she wanted to hug both boys and dismiss them simultaneously. “A bit over dramatic don’t you think?” She managed to snark, well as much as one could snark when one’s voice was suddenly a rasp and one was failing to stop tears from streaming down their face like they were chopping a barrel of onions.  
Charlie pulled out a handkerchief, handing to her before turning around to give her a moment to compose herself. He knew she still hated to show him anything that could possibly be perceived as weakness.   
Was it possible to feel both relief and worry at the same time? Because that was the only way Quill could describe what she was feeling. She still didn’t trust either of them but she knew these two ridiculous insane teens meant every word they were saying. She knew that they had clue what they were getting into nor what they doing. She highly doubted it was even legal or that the adults that would be left would allow it. But she knew these ridiculous insane teens would stick to it. They would fight for her baby. It solved absolutely nothing, yet it seemed to work.   
Quill wrapped her hand around her stomach and they all just stared at each other for a moment after she composed herself enough for the boys to feel they could turn around.   
Suddenly the house echoed with the sound of the downstairs phone ringing. “That could be the Doctor about April, I need to go get that.” Charlie said urgently, heading for the door, “But then we’ll help with the crib.”  
Quill sighed. “Okay,” She conceded, but as he rand from the room called after him, “Could you try to find the quarter Allen wrench while you down there?! And when I say that I mean come back with it or don’t come back at all!”


End file.
